


sweet sugar kitten

by CheapNightmares



Series: The Sweetest Flesh [1]
Category: Outlast (Video Games)
Genre: Cannibalism, Charley is an OC, Garrett is an OC, Gore, Kidnapping, M/M, Stockholm Syndrome, Torture, Underage - Freeform, Violence, implied rape
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-15 16:27:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29192292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CheapNightmares/pseuds/CheapNightmares
Summary: Dr. Garrett Raskolnikov picks a pretty new pet to play with and prep for dinner, but not everything goes according to plan.
Relationships: Garrett Raskolnikov / Charley Harris
Series: The Sweetest Flesh [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2143239
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	1. The Fruits of the Internet

**Author's Note:**

> Me? Literally the worst at summaries? Yes.

Garrett had found the boy on Facebook and added him out of idle boredom and vague curiosity. It wasn't the greatest place to find potential pets, too much of a trail to scrub clean later, but every now and then something of interest came up; if only for amusement. The boy's name there was an obvious fake – it took barely ten minutes to discover his real profile, one Charles Harris. Garrett knew better than to add that one, it was nothing but family and church-types on his friend's list. Boring.

Besides, 'Johnny Darko's page was far more interesting.

The boy was clearly lonely and in the closet, his posts mainly gay memes and pitiful pining for boys he couldn't have. Garrett was careful to ease himself in slowly, starting with liking posts and moving up to casual comments. Letting himself be known without coming on too hard. He didn't message him, not yet. As innocent as this one was it wouldn't take much to spook him, a waste of time and potential. 

Garrett liked what he saw, so far, content to coax familiarity. His basement was occupied currently, there wasn't any rush.

It was close to midnight when the first real hint of something appeared. An invitation to join him on Snapchat. Space_twunk. Cute. Space_twink would have undoubtedly been more accurate, but Garrett had no intention on chiding the boy for it. He watched the flow of the story, cold eyes glinting with amusement as he reclined on his bed, still smelling of the rough sex he had with Jeremy a bare hour before.

It was the story of a choir boy, all alone in bed. Thinking innocent things, at first, thinking about another older boy in choir practice, a boy he liked but couldn't quite work up the nerve to talk to. But just thinking about that older boy was  _ doing _ things to him and-

A Paypal address came next. Donations for an invitation to his private snap. Garrett sputtered on his rich aged whiskey, then laughed. Maybe the boy wasn't as innocent as he thought. 

Taking a risk, he sent his first message to 'Johnny'.

friendly_butcher:  _ How much for a completely private snap? _

Space_twunk:  _ is $200 fair? _

friendly_butcher:  _ Sent. _

Space_twunk:  _ xxxSpace_twunk see you there darling  _

A little winking kiss emoji. How cute.

It was vanilla, admittedly, but Garrett's interest was caught resoundingly. Seeing those fine pianist fingers wrapped around a pert and pretty cock, touching himself until he messed that choir gown. Delicious. Garrett's eyes roamed hungrily over those milk-pale thighs, imagining the carefully muffled whimpers and kitten moans. He palmed his own long, thick cock that had roused and lay heavy on his lower belly, leaking precum with his abrupt arousal. He could imagine how that smooth skin would taste on his tongue, how it would look marked and reddened. Tears gleaming in those baby-blue eyes as they streamed down his cheeks.

Garrett wanted this delicate little kitten. He would have to be careful. He had to be patient. He had to wait. 

His patience paid off in spades as Charles was the one who messaged him again, inviting him to another private viewing on Snap. Little by little, he coaxed himself more into the boy's life, gleaning little diamonds about his life. Before long 'Johnny' became 'Charley' in their personal chats. The money he made off the photo-plays wasn't spent on frivolous wants and desires but kept as savings. Charley wanted to leave, get away from a stiff and hyper-religious family and find freedom elsewhere. Garrett could hardly believe his luck. He had already considered how he would get his future kitten away, and here he was, practically throwing himself on his doorstep. 

Garrett encouraged him, steadily funding small amounts to the boy's account. He acted concerned for his well-being, supporting his idea of taking off to greener pastures. He helped him find the affordable studio, barely four hours from his own home. Garrett gave him a little extra to cover the bus ticket and waited, unable to sleep, as Charley slipped from his home in the middle night. Garrett had coaxed him to leave a letter, not saying where he was going but that he was gone. It was better if the police weren't going to be on his trail. Charley was sixteen, a bare year under being considered something of an adult in the state of Nebraska, it didn't hurt to be careful. Garrett helped him, remotely, wipe his tracks on the internet.

Patience.

Charley arrived safe at his new studio and Garrett was able to breathe again, his kitten so close he could almost taste him. He was going to be perfect, undoubtedly entertaining and later: tender and sweet on the palate. His current pet was beginning to near the end of Garrett's interest, soon he would be hunted, slaughtered, and divided into cuts. Wrapped, and tucked away in the freezer for later dinners. There had been enough in-between to simply keep him fed, but his pets he aged for a particular flavor and taste. He had a feeling Charley would be the best one yet.

Even Garrett had to admit that the boy was resourceful, not risking the publicity of a nine to five job he got himself a good, but inexpensive webcam and raided thrift stores for everything else. Garrett found himself the first one invited to the cam show, how flattering.

His kitten's voice was as pretty as a girls and he seemed to delight in dressing up for him, even if his shows were still rather vanilla, the most wild thing he did was finger himself. Charley could not see him, but he could hear him, if Garrett so chose; after the appropriate amount of time he did. Coaxing, encouraging. Complimenting the dresses he found and coaching him on how to repair them or take them in to better fit his slim figure. Garrett was sure to strategically strengthen the relationship between them, ensuring he was eating and drinking. It would be detrimental to his plans if his kitten required additional attention upon arrival, Garrett did not want him weak. 

Garrett could feel his patience waning, the boy would be so easily scooped up and whisked away. The idea of simply doing it became stron++ger with each private show and warm conversation. It was nearly decided when his phone pinged in the middle of the day while Garrett was at work. 

  
Space_twunk: _ have you ever heard of sugar daddies? _

friendly_butcher:  _ Yes I have darling. Why do you ask? _

Space_twunk:  _ I was thinking of maybe finding one...the cam show is good money but it's pretty lonely. _

friendly_butcher:  _ Understandable. They can be dangerous, but I was thinking of finding a darling sugar baby myself. _

Space_twunk:  _ Really? _   
friendly_butcher:  _ Yes, darling, I've been feeling lonely too. Would you be interested? We already know each other so well.  _

**Yes.**

Garrett smiled. A savage, triumphant grin. His kitten was coming. The waiting was over. As he sent his contact information and address, talking about a hotel that would never be slept in, he began to plan. 

The basement would have to be cleared out first, of course.


	2. Arrival, Kidnap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After some light preparations, the good doctor's new companion arrives on schedule.

There was so much to prepare ahead of his kitten's arrival and Garrett worked the last skeleton crew of his staff to exhaustion. They were due for a replacement now, his company had freshly trained stock in waiting. Garrett saw little point in supervising new maids when he had the old ones to use to the last of their full potential. And there was the matter of slaughtering his livestock, something he trusted to no one else. As he sliced and trimmed the fresh steaks his staff scrubbed and polished and oiled. 

It wasn't long before the reinforced basement was sparkling and smelling crisp. Leather bindings glowed and chains shimmered. Even the racks looked clean enough to eat off of, and the sweat and blood stained mattress in the corner had been replaced. Garrett smiled a flat, cruel smile as he inspected, the small cluster of maids standing nervously nearby, their eyes affixed to the shining floor. Almost delicately Garrett ran a white-gloved finger over the most hidden of spaces. When it came away clean he nodded, once.

Then he killed them all. 

Garrett was satiated by the time came to leave the house and pick up his innocent new kitten. He paused at the mirror in the hall to wipe away a spot of blood at the corner of his mouth, adjusting the tailored fit of his suit. He smiled in brief practice, ensuring it warmed his eyes appropriately. Until his kitten was firmly secured behind the thick steel door, there was the risk of an unfortunate escape. Garrett wasn't concerned about the police, but it would be a costly setback in taste and training. 

A moment later his Jaguar purred to life and Garrett began his long drive down the mountain to the bus depot. Charley was under the impression he would be staying in a hotel during the day and accompanying him in the evening, his head undoubtedly filled with idyllic images of warm kisses and heavy petting. The boy's trust in him was almost endearing. How easily it would be crushed and rebuilt anew. 

Garrett arrived early, allowing himself time to plan what was to come in a multitude of variables the common man would be incapable of. He relaxed against the warm leather seat, half lidded eyes watching the depot from across the street. Garrett has little doubt he would be able to subdue the boy if he caught hint of something was amiss. He lifted his hand, checking his watch as the road-worn Greyhound bus pulled up right on time.

Charley was easy to spot in the few passengers that disembarked. He was slightly smaller than Garrett had originally anticipated, viewing him through the distortion of the camera, a slender twink in baggy thrift shop clothes. Hardly a problem. Garrett unzipped the black leather case in his lap, slipping the slender syringe from it's holder. He emptied part of the clear contents back into the small glass vial. He wanted Charley unconscious, not dead. 

The boy had spotted his car and was poised on the edge of the curb, delicate as a bird as he waited for the light traffic to clear before he crossed, backpack hanging off one shoulder by the strap. Garrett slid the small case back under his seat, hidden by the dark tint of the Jag's windows. He palmed the syringe taking up a casual lean in his seat and putting on his artificial smile. 

The boy slipped into the car and Garrett inhaled as he did, taking in the bitter scents of travel and the softer undertone of Charley. Garrett watched, careful to maintain his warm and welcoming expression as Charley settled his backpack between his feet, hands falling to his lap, fingers twisting together in a quiet show of nerves. How sweet.

“Hi, Garrett” Charley spoke up first, a delicate pink warming those pale cheeks, looking up at him from under long lashes. He looked like a doll, pretty as a girl and delicate as a deer. 

“Hello, darling.” Garrett purred in return, noting how the blush in his new kitten's cheeks darkened a shade at that. This was almost too easy. “How was your trip?”

“Quiet. I hardly slept. I was too excited.” Charley admitted, shy. He hoped Garrett wouldn't be too disappointed in him, the man was always so sweet to him, so concerned for his well-being. And so  _ handsome _ in person. 

“Understandable.” Garrett turned his smile up to a full sixty-watts, watching as his kitten nearly melted in his seat. “Might I get a kiss, darling?” 

Charley didn't even hesitate, leaning over the center console, stretching that lean frame up in the expectations of something sweet. Garrett lifted one hand to cup his face, thumbing over the soft edge of his cheekbone. His other slipped around Charley's slender neck, a flex of the wrist and the needle pierced the strap of muscle that ran just behind the jugular and carotid arteries, the press of the plunger following in short order. Garrett watched Charley's soft blue eyes widen, then haze. He pulled the syringe away as his kitten slumped, going boneless. 

It was simple to push the boy back into his seat, reaching over to stretch the seatbelt out and buckle it. To the outside observer, Charley was simply sleeping. His breathing was steady, slow and deep, slumped with his head resting against the seat. 

Garrett's warm smile faded, replaced by something colder and far more predatory, a flat shine in his eyes. The syringe was capped and replaced, to be discarded later in the mix of thousands discarded at the hospital. Garrett put the Jag into gear and pulled smoothly into traffic, silently checking the steps off his mental list. Charley was going to disappear off the face of the earth, his tidy little online bank account would vanish, his apartment would be emptied in the dead of night. There would be no grand police inquiries, no searches, no pictures on the side of milk cartons. A runaway boy who ran somewhere else, no family interested in finding him, nothing but a mildly irritated landlord left behind. 

Almost too easy. 

Garrett parked the Jaguar in the garage, taking his time to unlock the side door that led into the house before he rounded the nose of the car, opening the passenger door where his new pet slept. Unless Garrett chose to wake him with another injection, he would remain this way for hours. Utterly still. Garrett leaned in, unbuckling the seatbelt and rolling Charley over onto his shoulder. He hooked his fingers into the strap of the backpack, taking it with him as he backed out and straightened up. 

Garrett dropped the backpack near the living room as he strolled into his dark home, walking with familiar ease. The two foot thick steel door was hidden behind the non-nondescript wood paneling, a light press of the hand a few inches to the right revealed a biometric scanner built into the wall. A little extra insurance, installed after a particularly difficult maid made an unfortunate mistake. The door depressed inward, then slid out of view. Bright lights flicked on automatically, revealing broad polished stairs and the gleaming concrete floor far below. Garrett carried the light body down, shifting to drop the boy from his shoulder to his arms when he reached the bottom. A few more long strides took him to the mattress tucked in the corner where the chains and straps hung, bolted into concrete walls several feet thick. 

Garrett left him clothed, for the time, but stripped away Charley's second-hand sneakers and socks. He did not go through the trouble of a fresh bed only to have it sullied by the dirt of a thousand other strangers. When that was finished he took each fine wrist, strapping them individually into a leather cuff and locking them with an intricately cut silver key. It would be impossible to tell how feisty the boy really was until he awoke, and Garrett had little interest in having Rick over to treat gouges on his face before he bled to death from them. 

Finally he tucked the collar around that slender, unmarked neck, locking it into place before dropping his new pet back down, the chains clinking faintly. Garrett decided to wait for Charley to wake, allow himself time to relax and make his phone calls. The motion sensors set in the room would send an alert to his phone and begin recording automatically. 

He was looking forward to seeing the boy cry. 


	3. Settling In, First Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charley is upset by his situation, but not upset enough for the doctor's preference.

Charley didn't wake until nearly noon the following day; Garrett had already gone through his morning routine of his shower and breakfast, even driving up the mountain to the company hospital to pick up more of the endless paperwork the place seemed to produce, ensuring the last few loose ends of Charley's disappearance were being well tied. 

He was in his office when the soft ping sounded on his computer. His surveillance system was state of the art, the cameras scattered throughout the main house currently fed into the storage servers that he could access any time he chose. Currently he was tied into the basement feed which provided both excellent night vision in the pitch-darkness of the room and audio. He was able to switch from his cell phone for mobile access and his computer. 

Garrett had been beginning to think the boy had overdosed or fell into a coma, but a brief calculation of dosage and his estimated weight said otherwise. It was likely Charley was simply tired, his body deciding to sleep once the powerful sedative had worn away. With work needing his attention, Garrett allowed him to rest. At the sound of the alert he tabbed open the live feed, settling back in his seat to watch the first moments of fear, the glimmer of fresh tears on that young face. 

Charley woke unable to see. 

In the first moment he thought he was still asleep, but he could feel himself blinking and a strange bed beneath him. In the second moment he thought it was simply the dead of night, moonless, with no lights to offer guidance to his surroundings. In the third moment he felt the weight around his neck and the restraint of his wrists. Then, he panicked.

His first instinct to lunge forward and free himself from whatever was constricting him proved futile, his arms yanked painfully at strange angles as the collar around his throat compressed his windpipe, cutting off his air supply as swiftly as a pair of squeezing hands. This only made him fight harder, twisting both shoulders painfully, head swimming and lungs burning with the abrupt oxygen deprivation until he finally fell back, gasping. It felt wrong to simply lay there like a waiting sacrifice and he planted his (bare) feet to shove himself back within the short range of the restraints. This he did far too forcefully, smacking his head on an unseen wall and letting out a sharp cry of pain. Finally he managed to get his ass underneath him, groping at the darkness like a blind man until he found a corner. Charley curled up into it, on the verge of hyperventilating as he ran trembling fingers over the unseen things keeping him there. Straps around his wrists and neck, attached to what felt like a chain. He whimpered when his fingertips brushed over the holes of the locks. He reached up, searching for a ceiling, and found none. He wanted to look for the edge of the – bed? - he was on but the primal part of his brain refused, insistent that something dangerous lay just beyond. 

The last thing Charley remembered was showing the bus driver his ticket, excited to meet his long-distance friend and walking back to find a quiet seat. Everything else beyond that was gone, blank. He stared out into the darkness, hoping for even the smallest glimmer of light and finding none. Finally he drew his legs up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them and resting his forehead on his knees. 

Garrett felt frustrated. Cheated. The boy was almost angelically soft, sheltered and delicate, and despite his grand show his eyes didn't even shine. Garrett had zoomed in the camera, watching the boy's developing expression of panic and fear, the way he choked himself, the tremble of his mouth. Yet he didn't cry. Not even a rather resounding smack, head-first into the wall, produced a single salty drop. Garrett frowned. Pretty boys like Charley always cried at this point, it was practically a law of biology. Time in the darkness would break him, then, it had worked on far stronger men before. Garrett turned up the volume on his feed and returned to the drivel of his paperwork. 

Four hours. Four  _ fucking _ hours and not to much as a peep from the boy. He barely moved. There were no cries for help, no attempts to pry off his restraints and escape. Garrett had seen that happen once, a big brute of a man with a dick like an elephant had ripped the straps clean out of the locks. It had taken five times the dosage to take him down. Adam had him now, reporting good interest from his internet clients. This one didn't even have the courtesy to  _ try _ . Garrett pushed back from his desk and stood, long strides taking him downstairs to where the panel hid his difficult kitten away.

Garrett shut off the automatic lights before he opened the door, just enough to slip through and shut again. His bionic eyes were sightless in the dark, but there were ways around that. Echolocation worked well, but there was no need for that. He was familiar enough with the space to navigate it blind. It was far cooler down here than the house upstairs, as Garrett preferred. The meat didn't spoil nearly so fast.

“You can scream all you want here. Cry. Beg. Plead. Nobody will ever hear you.”

Garrett was pleased to see how the boy startled, head jerking up as he cringed, curling in on himself and making the chains rattle. He reached into his pocket, thumbing the small remote tucked in there. The banks of lights came on at once. Garrett's eyes adjusted immediately, his kitten's did not; baby blues squeezing shut, an unhappy little hurt sound coming from his throat.

“I had the basement specially renovated when I bought the house. The door alone is over two feet. thick.” Garrett strolls closer, stopping a few paces from the bed as Charley finally looks up at him, blinking. He savors the emotions that pass over that pretty face. Confusion, understanding. Fear. 

“Garrett? What-”

Garrett raised a single finger and stopped him with a flat shark grin. “That is not my name. You can call me Dr. Raskolnikov.” Garrett took another step closer, “or sir.”

“But you said your name was Garrett.” Charley speaks up, Garrett can see the fear in his eyes, the furrowed line on his brow. 

“Do you know what a lie is, Charles?” Garrett reaches out, running a finger down the chain that connects to Charley's neck collar. 

“Don’t call me Charles.” There’s something new in that expression, the way Charley’s mouth has set. Garrett pulled the chain, slowly cutting off the boy’s air. 

“I can call you whatever I want.” Garrett watched, amused, as the boy struggled not to choke. He let the chain slip through his fingers, releasing his trapped kitten again. “Answer me.”

“Yes.” The struggle not to cough was evident in Charley’s voice, it was amusing, how tough the boy suddenly decided to be. How brave. His freezers were well stocked for a time, he would have to do something special with this one. Easter dinner was an idea. It would give him time to fatten the boy for slaughter. There was hardly enough on him to feed one as he was. 

Garrett mulled as he leaned down, casting a shadow over Charley. His hand moved from the chain to the boy’s chin, thumb stroking over the fine line of his cheekbone as he had done in the car. He felt no need to explain further. He didn’t think the boy was that stupid. Charley would be delicious by the time he was finished with him, delicious and-

Charley’s teeth sank into the meat between his thumb and forefinger, cutting through skin and spilling blood black as ink. It was instinctual to want to yank his hand away, but that would only further the damage. Those eyes Garrett had once thought full of naïve innocence were now staring up at him, gleaming with demonic hatred. 

Garrett reached out with his free hand, pressing on the edges of Charley’s jaw, just below the cheekbones he had been stroking moments before until the boy released, trying to pull his face out of Garrett’s grasp. His mouth was stained black, rivets running down his chin and staining his shirt. He looked feral, wild, something from the depths of the forest brought into the light of a new world. Garrett pulled his hand away and the boy spit, misting him with a fine spray of his own fluids. 

Garrett straightened up, pulling a stained handkerchief from his pocket to cup his bleeding hand in. Charley stared up at him. The boy licked the blood off his lips.

“Then rot.” Garrett left him, in silence and in darkness. His dinner was raw and cold but the wound healed, flesh and skin knitting together again until the blood ceased to flow.


End file.
